


Sanctified

by mayachain



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Ending, M/M, Magical Realism, myths and legends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 11:22:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,206
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9488849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayachain/pseuds/mayachain
Summary: There is a legend about the ancient royal lines and their connection to the land, about the blood of the kings and their queens.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Because why not.

There is a legend that is not only told to children in Akielos or Vere, but also in Patras and all the other lands that share history with those countries. It's a legend about the ancient royal lines and their connection to the land, about the blood of the kings and their queens.

Vaskian women know of the truth within it. Their leaders regularly make use of them, but they rarely speak of their wisdom to strangers. All that remains known to most people is that Vaskian women are good healers – their leaders especially so. 

The legend goes that once there were a young king and a crown princess from neighboring lands. They fell in love, and by declaring their love they saved their peoples from war. For there was a grave sickness plaguing the lands: Already it had claimed the young king’s father, and its spreading had caused accusations and strife.

But the king and the crown princess fell in love, and when the two kissed, a mighty light rose up from the earth and healed everyone around them.

With the exception of Vaskian women nobody believes there is truth to this part of the legend anymore. ‘A fortunately timed sunrise,’ scholars say. ‘The best healers of two countries uniting, cooperating – that’s how they quickly arrived at a cure.’ Nothing magical about it. Logical. _Rational_.

Yet the legend is still known. And so, when, with both of them bound and beaten before their respective councils, Laurent rises and says to Damianos the words: “I speak for Vere,” it means something.

It’s just a phrase. Just a phrase that would hardly raise any eyebrows except for the tone of his voice. There’s nothing beaten about it – as if he wasn’t a death-bound prisoner. It’s nothing but a phrase that should draw no reaction except disgust and pity from the onlookers – if it wasn’t for Damianos straightening, answering. “I speak for Akielos.” 

It would be a question. It would be a question - ‘Is this what you mean?’ - but it cannot be, not in front of Kastor, in front of the Regent. His voice rings out, assured.

I speak for Vere. I speak for Akielos.

Every child knows the legend. The countries’ names have changed with their borders, but everyone in the audience who has had even the slightest education and an ear for language recognizes the ancient formula.

“I serve my people,” says Laurent. The Regent seeks to interrupt him but Damianos speaks over him, “As I serve mine.” The guards stand hesitant as the prisoner each take a step forward.

“Let there be peace between us,” says Laurent, and Damianos goes on, "in the name of our children and our forefathers." They slowly walk toward one another. Both are still bound. Both are injured. It takes a while. 

Councilor Herode has a restraining hand on his Regent’s bicep.

"In the name of our children and our forefathers," repeats Laurent. Damianos: "There shall be peace between us. Bear witness."

It’s unclear whether either of them believes anything magical will actually happen, but even just their simple re-enactment of this well-known scene is generating power. They are bound, surrounded by enemies who are each of them armed, and nobody stops them.

"In the name of Vere I declare peace with Akielos," says Laurent. He has almost reached Damen now. 

"In the name of Akielos I declare peace with Vere," counters Damianos. 

"For you speak for Akielos -" Laurent, only two more steps now - 

"For you speak for Vere," and they have reached one other.

Bound, they cannot touch their hands. It matters little as they stand together. No one can later say who utters the last words first: "...my Love."

There is silence in the hall.

Kastor is gaping dumbfoundedly.

The Regent cannot interrupt and keep his face.

There is silence.

Then - nobody is quite sure how it happens - Damianos makes a quick move with both his wrists and the restraints that hold his hands behind his back are falling. Maybe he has worked at them all along. Maybe the guard doing the binding was less loyal than Kastor thought. Maybe. Maybe. 

The irons around Laurent's hands also fall.

They could have kissed, even with while bound. That might have worked as well. They probably would have done it had the restraints not unexpectedly fallen down. 

If Laurent is surprised by this turn of events he doesn't show it. Damianos is too caught up in the moment to really care about the how and the why.

They clasp hands.

They clasp their hands with the golden cuffs.

It's enough all on its own. If they were to look up now and once more declare themselves the kings that they are, at least half the room would follow them by the strength of this display alone. The Regent has waited too long. And yet.

Every child knows the ancient legend.

 _The land_ knows the ancient legend.

The light that rises from around their feet is gold with flecks of green and blue. It crawls up Damianos' leg and heals his wounds, spreading from there; on Laurent, it heals his ribs and his bruises and cuts and his black eye and the still sore wound on his shoulder.

(Paschal's salve is a wonder. The scars on Damen's back have been shrinking every time he and Laurent have kissed, every night they’ve spent together.)

Never in all their years as rulers that are now to come will either of them admit to his surprise. Laurent had read enough and spoken with Vaskians enough and remembered tales Auguste had told of how Father had been with their mother – that he ~~expected~~ hoped, desperately, that _something_ would happen. Damianos had been intent on following Laurent’s play and showing everyone the truth even if it proved nothing more than a hopeless last bid. His father hadn't loved his mother. Hypomenestra was a noble woman but she had never been a queen - not even in her king’s private thoughts. 

The dance of a pair in love can do anything.

The light spreads. It envelops everyone at Court, everyone in Ios, everyone in Akielos, everyone in Vere. It spreads toward a small Vaskian tribe that is currently planning a hunt in Lys, and to the Patrans who came to Laurent's aid before.

Wounds are healed. Grief is eased. Anger is soothed. People who are on the brink of death discover themselves healthy once more.

Laurent speaks for Vere. Damen speaks for Akielos. There is peace throughout the lands. And in the throne room, there is a scream.

Kastor lies in a dead faint on the floor. A red light is hovering over him. A similar light is surrounding Councillor Guion and Councillor Audin. Other patches are seeking out guards, servants, soldiers.

Nowhere is the light as menacing as it is around the Regent.

When the lights recede – gold and red alike – the erstwhile united kingdom of Vere and Akielos has irrevocably marked its traitors. Damianos and Laurent are both – both! - grinning in relief and delight, each utterly loathe to let go of the other just yet.

It is, children will learn when they hear the story hundreds of years from now, exactly what legends are made of.

 

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End file.
